


Nothing else but us right now (Drabble/Mini-fic Collection)

by samanthajane



Category: Ed Sheeran (Musician), One Direction (Band)
Genre: Drabble Collection, M/M, well sort of mini fics really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-05-20
Packaged: 2017-12-12 10:31:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/810561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samanthajane/pseuds/samanthajane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>4 Harry/Ed drabbles. Mix of AU and non-AU. They are idiots in all of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing else but us right now (Drabble/Mini-fic Collection)

**Author's Note:**

> These are all really dumb but I thought I'd share them anyway.

**1         //   I’ll see you in the future when we’re older**

Ed taps the mouse pad onto the next song, laptop balancing on his stomach, wires dangling out and onto the floor beside the sofa.

Harry's curled against his side, his long and gangly body not quite cooperating with his apparent notion that he's two feet smaller than he actually is. Ed let's him though, he quite enjoys the weight of Harry's head on his chest and the scent of his shampoo tickling just under his nose, even if their legs are all cramped and there are bony knees digging into him.

"This one reminds me of you." he says softly. (Leaving out that it's on a playlist full of songs that remind him of Harry.)

He tries to tell himself he doesn't feel Harry smile as he listens to the soft opening chords, or feel him curl a tiny bit closer when the singing comes in. The heat of the laptop seems a little more prominent now, or maybe he's flushing all over for some other reason.

Ed's glad the vocals are quite soft and the lyrics of the verse aren't too obvious. Harry probably only notices the lines of the chorus - _when we're older, can I still come over_ \- which is an innocent enough message to relate to his friend.

"Your music collection's my favourite out of anyone." Harry mumbles into his t-shirt. Ed doesn't want to get used to the low drawl of his voice, he'll be gone again tomorrow, and he'll belong to someone else, he's never belonged to Ed anyway, but that's okay.

"Isn't your best mate a DJ?" he teases, poking Harry's cheek. Harry grabs for his hand and bites his fingers playfully, making Ed giggle and his heart swell up a bit. 

(It's a bit like looking after a kitten once every few months, falling in a false sort of love that's really just adoration every time, and then having to let it out into the real world and know it's going to have the same effect on everyone else out there. When Ed gets off tour he’s going to get a kitten all to himself and not share it with anyone, and he’ll get to adore it every single day.)

"Don't like his stuff as much as what you play me. You're the best." Harry says quietly. Then he sits up, looking down at Ed with gleaming eyes, lips parted and quirked up ever so slightly - an expression Ed knows all too well. He'd deny Harry the response he's after, if he wanted to.

Harry's the one to lean down but Ed all but pulls him by the t-shirt, hands gripping the fabric lightly. The brush of Harry's lips, all slow and deliberate and better than all the drugs Ed tried as a teenager, is enough to stop him feeling so pathetic for even having a list of songs filed under Harry.

Because it makes sense really, you can't see your favourite band live every day, but you can listen to their albums on a loop. It's not quite like that, though, this playlist. Because Harry's the real music. If Ed could have Harry on a loop every day, he would. Harry's the best album he's ever heard. But he has to settle for this sort of Harry tribute band - a collection of songs that describe him or how Ed thinks of him pretty well, but never as well as Harry describes himself, in no words at all.

(Ed wished he could write Harry in a song in a way that would do him justice. He’s going to keep trying until he manages it.)

Harry's hand comes to cup his cheek and his eyes open briefly, he breathes out the tiniest little sound before catching Ed's lips again, his other hand gripping the arm Ed has clutched around his waist. They're both flushed now. 

The Milo Greene song finishes and it switches to 'King and Lionheart', which is a bit of a dodgy tempo to kiss to, but the sentiment is pretty relevant, and it makes Harry smile against his mouth, so he doesn't switch. The laptop's probably going to fall soon anyway so it'll turn off one way or another.

 

**2         //  No such thing as rockstars (just people who play music)**

Ed looks out into the crowd – the blur of how many faces there are and the amount of bodies all turned towards him as he plays the opening chords of his third song – and has to swallow down hard on the lump he’s getting in his throat and the thumping in his chest. This is _insane_.

He could never have imagined playing to this many people. He got up on a table at Harry’s 10th birthday and sang a Busted song at the top of his voice and most of the other kids laughed and left the room in favour of a second helping of cake. Except Harry, of course. He sat crossed-legged on the floor whooping and asking for another.

And sure, this is a multi-artist thing and it was Harry who convinced the union board to let Ed play even though he’s technically not a student, and Dougie’s band are really the main attraction of the night and could probably play a venue like this on their own and sell a decent portion of the tickets. But still. He’s still here and his name’s on the poster and there’s a link to his YouTube channel on the student union website now (Harry probably had a say in that one too). It doesn’t matter how many gigs he does and how many times people cheer and come up to him after and tell him he’s great or ask where they can download some of his stuff, he can’t help but get this squirming excitement in his stomach and be struck with utter disbelief.

He didn’t even let himself wish for any of this. But then, he got everything he’d wished for when he was sixteen and Harry kissed him on the bridge on their way home from school. This is all just a bonus, really. An amazing bonus.

He soaks it up, doesn’t pay attention to how the lights are a bit blinding and he’s sweating too much and the guitar amp could do with being louder, people are clapping and waving at him and he’s grinning as wide as he can be while still singing.

And when he gets to _when I feel cold, you keep me warm,_ he can’t help but turn find his boy’s face to grin a little more at. He’s where he usually is, perched right in the wings of the stage, leaning against something and watching intently (some venues don’t let him stand up there so he’ll make sure he gets right at the front of the crowd, slightly to Ed’s left to keep some continuity.) Ed grins and giggles a bit on his words, still playing the chords perfectly though because he doesn’t really need to concentrate on those anymore. Harry laughs too and bites his lip, creases up at his eyes and his dimples on show. His hair’s all ruffled in his face and his self-made ‘Ed Sheeran’ t-shirt hangs off him just right. The crowd start clapping along to the change in beat as Ed chants out at them. He glances back at Harry again who’s singing along too, still grinning, eyes shining right at Ed.

He feels like the luckiest guy on the fucking planet.

When his set’s done he lets the runner take his guitar for him and jumps into Harry’s arms – he’s all flushed and sweaty but they’ve known each other far too long for that to make him hold back.

“Good job Rockstar.” Harry murmurs in his ear. They’re sort of still in semi-public in this little room backstage with a few of the other musicians wandering around them, but Ed pulls back a bit to lean up and give Harry a small but lingering kiss, cupping his cheek and feeling the warm, familiar skin.

They have to get the bus home later, Harry’s shitty little car died again last week and he’s going to need to do a few more extra shifts at the bakery before he can afford to get it fixed. Ed doesn’t care though, they stroll through the streets tipsy and giggly at 3am, holding hands and taking turns to carry Ed’s guitar. Harry kisses him in the middle of an empty road until a taxi rounds the corner and beeps and they have to run to the pavement. They argue about whose fault it was and pinch each other all of the way to the bus stop.

Harry falls asleep on Ed’s shoulder on the bus, amidst nuzzling and biting at his cheek like he used to when they were kids and he wanted one of Ed’s sweets. Ed thinks he hasn’t really changed much at all. _They_ haven’t.

When they’re back at their boxy flat they dump all of their stuff at the door and don’t bother to do anything other than strip and curl up on the mattress, all tangled around each other because it’s a bit chilly in the bedroom since the heating broke, but not really because of that at all. Ed’s head’s still buzzing a bit and Harry knows so strokes his thumb over his hip and whispers softly to him. Ed kisses his nose and they drift off.

He’ll check his emails and reply to all the new comments on his YouTube in the morning, and make Harry a cup of tea and walk him to class, and text him horrendous things to distract him while he’s there. And he’ll probably keep getting hit with this feeling that he can’t believe what a fucking amazing life he got. It’s quite nice to be hit with that every day, he thinks.

 

**3        //  You told me I was like the Dead Sea**

“My feet hurt.” Ed complains. Harry rolls his eyes and reaches back to tug Ed up the hill alongside him. The air’s still cool but they need to hurry because it won’t stay that way long – it took longer than Harry expected to drag Ed out of bed so they’re running a little late. Harry had to pretend he wanted to have sex to wake Ed up, and couldn’t really stop himself from following through once they started kissing and, well.

“Stop being stupid.”

“You said a _short walk_.”

He can hear that Ed’s a bit out of breath, but he promised he wouldn’t laugh at him for that.

“This _is_ a short walk.”

Ed grumbles something Harry doesn’t catch, but he doesn’t care anyway – they’re almost at the top of the hill.

And when he looks out from the top, it’s just as gorgeous a view as he remembers it. He knew last time he was in L.A that this would be a perfect place to watch the sunrise. The skyline’s perfect out here. There was only one person Harry had thought of when he decided to come back.

“Did you bring sandwiches?” Ed asks from behind him, Harry turns back and glares at him for not appreciating the view. Ed’s not put gel in his hair yet and it looks all soft and wispy – Harry’s favourite.

“It’s six in the morning.” He tells him sternly. Ed shrugs.

“I’m hungry.”

“No. I didn’t bring sandwiches.” Harry pulls Ed forward by his forearms. Ed sighs and steps into his space, nuzzling Harry’s collar bone and tipping his head back to peck his chin.

“What’s the point in having a boyfriend who doesn’t make you sandwiches?” He asks accusingly, eyes narrowed, but he’s smiling too.

Harry bites his lip, stomach fluttering, he tries not to let it show.

“You’re a total dick.” He says quietly, smirking. “M’gonna tell Stuart you’ve become a diva.”

Ed scrunches his nose. He’s definitely too cute to be twenty two. Harry’d pitch him at like, seven, sometimes. Especially when he complains that Harry didn’t buy Coco Pops for him coming home. “Well, I don’t care. He’s always been a diva anyway.”

Harry shakes his head, turns them around and pulls Ed to sit down, cosied together and looking out at the city. The sun’s creeping out, a thin line of deep orange at the bottom of the skyline.

“S’nice isn’t it?” he says, smiling.

“Yeah.” Ed says quietly, Harry looks at him and Ed doesn’t seem to be watching the sky, just Harry. He’s smiling gently. “You have dumb ideas and it’s really fucking early, but… this is nice.”

“Good.” Harry shuffles closer to him and puts an arm around his shoulder to tug him in any distance that he might have missed.

The sun starts appearing in full, quickly, Harry loves how the orange spreads across the clouds and dusts over the building tops, fills in the gaps between them.

They watch it in silence, Harry checks Ed’s not fallen back asleep because it seems too long since he’s make a snarky comment, but he’s just watching contently. He does glance at Harry and stick his tongue out quickly though, pulling a stupid face. Harry could stay up here all day.

When the sun’s fully up, Ed starts chatting to him quietly, about not very much but the kind of stuff that’s just for them so Harry loves it. Eventually the conversation drifts, and Ed’s playing with the lace of Harry’s trainers and tucking a finger into his sock and pulling on his leg hair to annoy him, they’re both giggling quietly and trying to glare at each other without smiling.

Harry reaches for Ed’s hand, too quick for Ed to pull away. He bites at his knuckles and nips the skin of his fingers between his teeth, giggling when he hears Ed mutter “little weirdo”.

It’s strange, Harry hadn’t expected it to be like this, being with someone. Maybe because they’d been friends first and gotten comfortable but, how he feels is so different to how he imagined.

He had thought it would just be like, really, intensely liking someone. When he dated people in the past he got a bit obsessed with little things – the way they’d bite their smile or how tight their grip on his hair was when they kissed him. He thought if he ever fell in love it would just be a stronger feeling of those things.

It’s a bit like that some of the time but it’s, it’s just so much more.

It’s how he likes laughing best when it’s Ed who’s caused it. It’s how Ed mutters stuff in his ear to make him laugh when they’re watching a film with the boys and everyone gets angry at them for making too much noise. It’s how he can feel like Ed’s right next to him when he’s half way across the world just from getting a text about a weird dog he saw. It’s how they run around cities late at night on stupid ‘dates’ and catch ridiculous amounts of flights to spend a few hours together. It’s how he can still smell Ed on his clothes when he leaves.

It’s how Harry’s strangely proud of what a giggly, mess of a couple they are.

Ed winds him up like they’re five year old brothers, and Harry pisses him off deliberately by making a mess of the bathroom and pinning him down and tickling him and not letting him out of his hold. They bicker and insult each other and laugh about it so much it’s a wonder they can ever talk seriously about their feelings.

They probably don’t sound right, Harry doesn’t thing anyone would bet on them from their description. They just seem like a couple of idiots. But he’d bet on them every time.

Because Ed knows everything that no one else knows, knows when Harry wants something he’s not saying, knows how to cheer him up, how to let him just be sad, how to kiss him and touch him until he can’t see, and make him laugh until he’s not even making any sound anymore.

(He thinks, just sometimes, because it’s not nice to think about breaking up, that even if they didn’t work out, Ed’s probably going to be in his life for a really long time in some way.)

Harry rests his head on the top of Ed’s.

“Hey. I’ll race you down the hill? Last one to the car buys breakfast.”

He stands up, Ed fixes him with a glare.

“I’ve never felt luckier to have loads of money so I don’t have to care about shit like this.”

“Stop being a spoilt sport or I’ll drive off without you!” He calls behind him, laughing, and starts to run, not bothering to check if Ed’s following him.

 

**4         //   Up all night to get lucky**

Harry’s not drunk, but his eyes feel a bit heavy and people’s faces aren’t really that clear. He flops down on the horrible tacky leather sofa in the corner. Everyone’s up on the dancefloor because Rhianna’s 100th single this month is playing but he’s already had enough. At least it’s quieter over by the sofa.

He hates clubs. Everything’s too loud and you have to shout things for people to hear you, and mumbling little cheeky comments really loses its effect when you have to yell it back into someone’s ear and you just sound like a lunatic. He can never meet people like this, girls seem to find him sleazy rather than charming and the boys only like going to gay clubs every so often and even then he’s only ever found people to have a one night stand with.

Louis says he’s a fussy dater, but he’s not, he just likes talking to people rather than buying them a jager bomb. He hates jager bombs.

“Me too.” Says a voice next to him. It takes a lot of effort for him to turn his head and squint at the figure that seemed to have appeared next to him on the sofa.

“What?” he mumbles, blinking to try and regain some vision.

The guy giggles, actually _giggles_. He’s kind of short looking, legs in too-baggy jeans and he’s only wearing a t-shirt with some weird logo on it. He’s got gingery hair that looks odd in the awful red mood lighting of the club. His eyes are twinkly and blue though and Harry likes them a lot.

“Jager bombs. Hate them. Jagermeister is disgusting.” The guy continues, resting back a bit. “Prefer pints, me. Did you know they don’t do pints here?”

“They’re evil.” Harry says, glaring at the bar as if it’s just kicked his puppy. He doesn’t know what he’s saying. He thinks he might be losing his balance even though he’s sitting down.

“Are you okay mate?” There are hands on his wrists gripping him, the guy’s in his face, eyes wide and worried. Harry snaps his head up, nodding. “You’re sort of – swaying.” The guy says, grinning.

“When the rumba rhythm starts to play, dance with me, make me sway…” Harry sings, he’s not sure how loud but he’s giggling and he thinks he might fall into the guy’s lap a bit but he gets hoisted back up.

“Okay.” Ginger boy chuckles. He’s got lovely soft cheeks that Harry wants to pinch. “That was lovely. Is that your thing? Serenading the ladies in clubs with old classics? Very smooth.”

Harry laughs unexpectedly, his hair falls in his face. He shakes his head. “You’re not a lady.”

“Rude.”

Harry leans his head on the wall. He thinks it might be weird to stare at a stranger’s face this much but the guy just seems quietly amused by it. “M’Harry.”

“Ed.” The boy, Ed, says back.

“Like that name.” Harry slurs. He likes the freckles on Ed’s neck. “Like you.”

“I think you’d like anyone at this stage mate.” Ed laughs.

“M’not that drunk!” Harry protests, sitting up fast and feeling a bit dizzy from it, he puts a hand out to balance himself. Ed’s laughing again.

“You got someone to get you home, Harry?” Ed asks, he’s got that concerned look on his face again, Harry’s torn between huffing at him and kissing those stupidly pink lips.

“Could be you.” He says, one eyebrow raised.

Ed looks bemused but happy, “Wow. Should’ve known a guy like you would have _the worst_ lines.”

“What’s a guy like me?”

“Y’know, all pretty and too-tight jeans. Like Bambi in an indie band.”

“That’s mean.”

“It was sort of a compliment.”

Harry pouts, then thinks for a minute. “What was Bambi’s girlfriend called?”

Ed’s forehead lands in his palm. “What? I don’t know.”

“Come on,” Harry groans. “I know it!” he smacks at his head, it hurts a bit, Ed stops his hand, laughing at him and looking around at the people surrounding the bar.

“Wait!” Harry yells excitedly, “Faline! It was Faline!”

“Yeah, okay.” Ed says, looking confused.

“Will you be my Faline?” Harry tries to do something seductive with his face but his muscles all feel weird he probably just looks like he’s having a stroke.

“Nah mate, I’m no Faline. I’m more of a Thumper or something. Or the skunk.”

“You’re so Faline, she was all eyelashes and cute giggles too.” Harry grins. Ed shakes his head.

“The worst lines.” He repeats.

“You say the sweetest things, Faline.” Harry bumps Ed’s shoulder with his head. He lifts up slightly, he’s close to Ed’s face now. Ed’s got _really_ nice lips. “Does Faline like kissing?”

Ed grins, giggling again. “Not in clubs.”

Harry makes a disappointed sound. “Not even for your Bambi?”

Ed pats him on the arm, laughing. “You’re – ridiculous. And really drunk.”

“M’not that –”

“Harry!”

Harry swirls his head around to see Louis and Niall heading over to him. Niall’s got a girl with him, because of course he does. Harry leans back and throws his arm around Ed.

“Hey guys,” he smirks, “This is my Faline.”

Louis squints down at him, unimpressed. His hair’s all over the place. “What –”

“I’m Ed. Your mate here’s a bit far gone.” Ed gets out from Harry’s arm and helps him stand up and into Louis’ hold.

“We should probably get you home, eh Hazza?” Louis laughs.

“Can Ed come?”

Ed holds his hands up, “Gotta find my own mates, nice to meet you Harry.”

“Thanks for taking care of him, bud.” Louis says.

“Looooouis.” Harry coos into Louis neck, “Want his number. Give him mine. Wanna call him.”

“ _Harry_.” Louis laughs loudly, he’s not sober himself.

Harry tries to catch Ed’s eye again, but feels himself slip out of Louis’ grip and topple over his own feet, he lands somewhat on the ground but Niall’s arm comes around his waist to haul him up.

Niall starts walking him towards the front doors and Harry’s head is spinning too much to even attempt to turn around and find Ed again.

“C’mon Bambi, let’s get you home.” Niall chuckles.

“ _Bambi_!” Harry yells loudly and erupts in giggles. He glances to his side and sees Louis catch up with them, shaking his head fondly.

He falls asleep with one shoe still on.

When he wakes up in the morning, his head really fucking hurts. He had a weird dream about blue eyes and getting shot by a deer and crying. He’s sick twice in the toilet because Louis waves his bacon sandwich under his nose. He curls up in his bed whining, reaches weakly to check his phone when he can’t get back to sleep.

New message:

_You might not remember me but you made your mate give me your number. Nice to meet you last night, I hope your head hurts a lot today, you deserve it. Stay off the jagers in future. Love Faline ;)_

**Author's Note:**

> In case you want the songs I got the titles from:
> 
> Work title; from 'You & I' by Crystal Fighters
> 
> #1; 'Laughter Lines' by Bastille 
> 
> #2; 'Try This At Home' by Frank Turner
> 
> #3; 'Dead Sea' by The Lumineers
> 
> #4; 'Get Lucky' by Daft Punk and Pharrell Williams (does anyone not know that song rn)


End file.
